Not Just A Nanny: The Genius Returns
I spent five years as the perfect wife to Easton Harrington, smoothing his midnight-blue ties and fading into the wallpaper of his massive estate. I thought I was the heart of our family, but I was really just a ghost in a sensible beige dress.
The illusion shattered at a charity gala when Easton’s "family friend," Georgina, appeared in a gown that matched his suit perfectly. While they basked in the flashbulbs as a golden couple, I was literally pushed into the velvet ropes by a cameraman. No one noticed.
Then my four-year-old son, Holt, slapped my hand away in front of the city's elite.
"Don't touch me! You're not my mom, you're just the nanny. Daddy said so."
The room went silent, but Easton didn't defend me. He just looked annoyed that I was causing a scene, making a sharp shooing motion for me to take the boy away. Beside him, Georgina feigned shock while her eyes crinkled in pure amusement.
I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a placeholder. They had stripped me of my dignity and even my child's love, treating my five years of devotion like a temporary staff position.
I didn't scream. I just slid off the Harrington heirloom ring, tossed it into a fountain, and walked out into the night.
Easton thinks I’m a penniless housewife who won’t last a week without his credit cards. He doesn't know that I’m Dr. Althea Morrison, the "prodigy" researcher his company has been begging to hire.
I'm not asking for alimony, and I'm not begging for a second chance. I’m returning to the lab to build an empire that will bring his to its knees.
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Chapter 9
Monday morning. Althea arrived at the Institute in her new Porsche-bought with the dividends from her trust fund that had been accumulating untouched for five years.
She parked in a general spot, avoiding the executive lot.
As she walked in, she heard the whispers.
"That's her. The admin assistant."
"Did you see the car? Must be sleeping with the boss."
"Bret Morrison's mistress. Classic."
Althea kept her head high. She walked into the lab.
Dr. Liam Yates, the lab director, blocked her path. He was a brilliant man, but arrogant, and he hated nepotism. He thought Althea was just Bret's flavor of the month.
"Here," Liam shoved a stack of files into her chest. "Sort these by date. And get me a coffee. Black."
Althea took the files. She didn't move to get the coffee.
"Dr. Yates," she said, flipping open the top file. "These are the clinical trial results for the beta-blocker."
"I know what they are. Can you read dates? Or is that too complex?"
Althea ignored the insult. Her eyes scanned the data tables. She frowned.
"You have a statistical anomaly in the third cohort," she said. "Look at the potassium levels. They're spiking in patients over 50. If you proceed to Phase 3, you're going to cause cardiac arrest in 15% of your subjects."
Liam froze. The lab went silent. Other researchers stopped their work.
"Excuse me?" Liam laughed, a nervous sound. "You're an assistant. You don't know what a potassium spike looks like."
"I know that 5.5 millimoles per liter is the threshold," Althea said, her voice cutting through the room. "And your data shows an average of 5.8. Did you adjust for the renal clearance rates?"
Liam snatched the file back. He stared at the numbers. His face went pale. Then red.
He looked at Althea. Really looked at her.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
"I'm the person saving your career," Althea said. "Fix the clearance rate variable. And get your own coffee."
She walked past him to her desk.
Behind her, the whispers changed tone.
At the Harrington office, Easton was pacing. The image of Althea with Dr. Fuller was burned into his mind, a confusing, infuriating puzzle.
"Sir," his private investigator said, holding a folder. "I checked her accounts. Nothing. No credit card usage. No hotel check-ins."
"Then where is she?" Easton slammed his fist on the desk. "She has to be eating! She has to be sleeping somewhere!"
"There is one thing," the PI said. "A vehicle registration. A Porsche 911. Registered to a private holding company, B.M. Enterprises."
"B.M.?" Easton frowned. "Like Bret Morrison? So she's not just his date, she's his kept woman. He bought her a car." A wave of possessive fury washed over him. The thought of Althea, his Althea, with another man-especially a rival like Morrison-was intolerable. "That display at the gala... it must have been a performance coached by Morrison to humiliate me. She doesn't have a single real skill. She's probably living in that car when he gets tired of her."
But a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. A Porsche? It was a bold, expensive statement.
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7.5
"I'm going to fuck all of Vincent's memory out of you," he murmurs.
"You're Carter's woman now."
★★★★★
At just 21, Lyla Rose thought she had it all; a loving husband, a powerful mafia family, and a future she believed was secure. But everything comes crashing down when a medical report reveals she's infertile.
Vincent Ricci, her ruthless mafia husband, can't tolerate that one imperfection. In a brutal, heartless move, he divorces her and replaces her with Maria, the fertile woman who can give him the heir Lyla never could. But that's just the beginning.
Refusing to be discarded so easily, Lyla struggles to let go. But when Vincent plans to lock her away in a basement, everything changes. Carter Ricci, Vincent's cold, calculating uncle, steps in. He takes her to his penthouse, promising to protect her, cherish her, and vowing he's nothing like his nephew.
But Carter has his own dark secrets. And once they're revealed, everything Lyla thought she knew about him will be shattered.
When Vincent realizes the mistake he's made, regret consumes him and he comes to take her back. But Carter has no intention of letting her go. He's claimed her, body and soul.
Now Lyla must choose: Will she return to the man who shattered her, or stay with the one who trapped her in a web of lies and manipulation?
And can Carter really hold onto the woman he took through deceit, or will his dark past destroy everything they've built?
★★★★★
TROPES YOU'LL LOVE
✔️ Ex-husband's uncle
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✔️ Betrayal & forbidden love
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7.4
"I wanted to ruin her. Instead, I craved her."
Revenge was all Clemente Cassano ever lived for. The son of Sicily's most feared mafia leader, he swore to destroy the man who betrayed his family. His plan was simple-break the daughter, Vivian Gustavo, and watch her father burn.
But Vivian wasn't fragile. She was fire-untouchable, ruthless, intoxicating. And the deeper Santiago pulled her into his darkness, the more he realized she wasn't his enemy... she was his weakness.
7.8
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.
9.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."
7.3
A mafia billionaire single dad romance.
I just discovered the don's darkest secret. Wait 'til he finds out mine...
The Bratva don and I made a deal:
Spare my father. Take me instead.
But Dmitry Tsezar wasn't satisfied with my body.
He wanted everything else, too.
My obedience. My submission.
My heart. My soul.
And when that still wasn't enough, he came to take my life.
But then I found something.
Something twisted. Something wrong.
Something hidden in a locked room of his mansion, in a wing he warned me never, ever to wander near.
When I opened the door and discovered Dmitry's secret...
Everything changed forever.
7.8
Growing up as the maid's daughter in the glittering, suffocating Collins mansion, Nora Macie has perfected the art of being invisible. Enter Asher Collins. Rich, ruthless, and infuriatingly untouchable, unfortunately for Nora, her stepbrother has always had the power to ruin her with a single word.
The moment a private video she never intended anyone to see is accidentally sent straight to Asher Collins. Except Asher doesn't expose her. He becomes curious... and dangerously invested.
He will remake her. Not just into someone noticed, but into someone unforgettable, someone who commands attention the moment she walks into a room.
Suddenly, the boys who never knew her name are watching her. Through it all, Asher remains in control... or at least he should be.
Because the closer Nora gets to becoming everything he designed, the harder it becomes for him to remember that she was never meant to be his.
*
His fingers lifted, brushing lightly along the side of her throat. "I think you've been lying to yourself," he said. "Because your body already knows what it wants."
Her breath faltered. "I swear, I'll kill you if you don't back the hell up."
And then, without giving her the chance to retreat, he closed the final inch between them. "I would much rather you kiss me."